


Monaco

by Laeana



Series: ∂ead нearts [4]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Child Neglect, Childhood Friends, Complicated Relationships, Coronation, Difficult Decisions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Getting Together, Healing, Kings & Queens, Love Confessions, M/M, Murder, Regret, Repressed Memories, True Love, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: Years and years and years wrote in few pages.Charles tries to do it, he tries to write, he tries to take good decisions. He wants to tell everything to Pierre, he doesn't want the unsaid to destroy what they are building.Decisions are to be made, Charles has to take the right ones for Monaco. For his people.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Daniel Ricciardo, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Series: ∂ead нearts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889596
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. met him on a rainy day

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Monaco](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23965951) by [Laeana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana). 



Pierre sleeps in his arms, quietly, seeming almost at peace, while he cannot even close his eyes. Too many thoughts are going back and forth in his head. His beloved closer to him than he has ever been and he knows he has no right to take advantage of such a situation.

For all the sins he committed. For all the harm he's done to him. Charles can't sleep, but maybe it's better that way. Demons torment him and seek him in the darkness of his nights when he remains far too isolated.

He stands up, retrieving a blanket to cover his bare form, as well as paper and a quill from his dresser. He goes out onto his little terrace, preferring the moonlight to the stifling comfort of his own room.

Paperwork, a few things to sort out, and his Frenchman will go back to his country and leave him here alone, as always. He doesn't blame him, how could he? He doesn't wait for it to be understood either, knows it would be difficult.

He must already sort it out in his own head. He must already consider talking to his love, because he knows he will not stand it. He must be willing to immerse himself in those memories once more.

He glances in briefly to see the barely open envelope on the table. A remarriage. Good initiative. He doesn't blame Daniel for finally wanting to be happy, he's not that unfair. He wishes him all the best in the world, from now on.

He's just so tired. The impression that his happy ending is far, very far from him. Pierre will not forgive him easily, he will have to row but has the impression of being lost in the open sea. His confidence is a facade.

He stares at the paper, still empty of words and is saddened not to master them as well as the one sleeping in his bed. It is poignant. This poem. For him. There are many ways of expressing suffering.

But he will have to go through the writing because he knows he will never be able to speak it out loud. He wanted to forget too much to be able to express it. Scars gone but he feels his body will wear them forever.

Writing yourself not to forget on your arm, writing yourself to remember the hardships endured and to live from day to day at best. Having nothing to lose except yourself. To fight for a people who should be yours.

It all started when his father died. His real father. The one who smiled at him, hugged him and told him stories before he fell asleep. The one who embraced his mother tenderly, who watched over the kingdom with kindness and who knew how to remain dignified and wise.

Wars can change a man. Wars can destroy someone from within and it's sad, so sad when you realize that all that's left of a person you've loved is their body and memory.

When he was nine, he met Pierre for the first time. The Frenchman seemed like a ray of sunshine in his life which had become terribly rigorous and he made sure to make the most of each of their meetings.

His brothers were sent to live apart when he was twelve, in a small estate on the border with their state. To be raised there properly.

Charles continued his education, did as his father told him. Each of the small actions. From a history lesson to fighting battles. Ridiculous. He was a child with a sword in his hand. He was in the front of danger and had no time to be afraid.

He had to fight, he had to survive. He had to do something to stay in the good graces of his father and above all, he had to be able to take back the throne.

His real father is dead after all. There is nothing he does recognize in those cruel features, in that contemptuous grin, in that cold voice, in this hand which sends him to the scaffold every day of his life.

He collapses to the ground. He can't take it anymore. He put it all together. Fighting like that was never part of his lessons. With the energy of despair, fear in the stomach. He's so cold, he can't feel his body anymore.

— Warning !

A horse comes between him and a soldier who came to charge, sword in hand. The adversary collapses, transfixed.

— You should- … what is a kid your age doing here ?

He stands up, shaking, resting his hands on his knees with difficulty. It’s true. He can neither let his guard down nor stop.

— I have to fight for Monaco.

— The son of a king has no place here. Especially at this age.

— I obey his will, I can’t disappoint him !

The stranger sighs, undecided. Himself does not know. He spells out the sentences he's been told so often, his tired mind unable to do anything else.

— I'll take you back to the castle. We'll see after.

What castle? The older one grabs him and makes him mount his horse, before setting off again at a gallop. A horse ... it must be good to have one. He often rode but never got one personally.

— Are you all right, Your Highness ? Are you not injured ?

Are they ... at the castle of Italy ? So the man who picked it up is ...

— I'm fine. Can you have the room prepared for our guest ?

— Very well.

The king removes his helmet and he recognizes him for having already seen him several times. Daniel Ricciardo. He jumps in surprise. He doesn't know what to think. Is this a good thing or a bad thing ? What would his father say ?

— Relax, Charles. I brought you here to treat you well, believe me. I can't believe that old man put you on the battlefield. Even this crazy Jos Verstappen is not sending his son yet.

— I dunno. I believe the war changed him for the worse. He wasn't like that before.

— Would you like to talk about it around hot drinks ?

A hot cacao and a big smile, that's almost all Charles remembers from this first interview with Daniel. For once, he had the opportunity to make an ally among royalty, and not the least. Surprising.

One of the only people to have heard his calls for help. Sleeping in a bed, when he was satisfied with a chair, the floor, a piece of straw these last days.

He wanted to return to the battlefield the next day, the Italian king forced him to stay. They had an argument. A very effective argument since it included a twelve year old kid on board.

— Do you know what your father is ? A man haunted by his past who would be ready to give anything to redeem himself by winning this war, his life, that of his family, of his own son.

These words are stinging. He closes his eyes, does a silent count to ten in his head. It was his mother who taught him this. She taught him how to calm down, how to think through his response. Not respond on the spur of the moment. It can cost a lot.

— Why ?

— Why what ?

— What does he have to redeem ? I lack information, we never knew ... what happened.

The king looks thoughtful, almost unsure of the right words to use. For once he's the one losing his words.

— He killed ... the two people who could have ended the war. It was an accident but the facts are there and the battle continues.

— Who were they ? These two people ?

Charles nods a little more, trying to read the expression of the older man biting his lip, the thought seeming to hurt him.

— The King of Spain. And my father.

— Oh.

— Don't make that kind of expression. I had enough pity for the rest of my life I believe. Don't you want to talk to me about your situation instead ?

He blinks before realizing what his interlocutor is implying. His situation. Why he was on the battlefield. He did not necessarily think of digging into the past and the pain of Italian, not thinking that this one would soon forge a solid reputation, in search of an affection he would never find again.

— My ... The king said that I must learn to fight my own battles. That it was part of the hard teaching I have been receiving for ... four years ?

— I see. I didn't think this stuff would happen. Ending this war is not the easiest, but we have started to revise agreements with other leaders. If we unify central Europe, we should solve a lot of our problems.

— Certainly ?

— And I will come with you to Monaco.

The mug he is holding almost slides out of his hands and he grabs it awkwardly, surprise marking his features before he can restrain it.

— What ? But with a kingdom to manage, it won't be ...

— I'll put you under my tutelage. I can’t attend these kinds of scenes without taking action. We will return to Monaco without delay, it’s not that far from here. There I will talk to your father.

— In a coach ?

— On horseback.

He let himself be dragged without great difficulty to the stable, still too stunned by Daniel's sudden decision. He does however feel a bit too small to ride the horses here. He trained more on foals, his size and age forming a handicap.

— We’ll say that this is my first gift for you.

A brown foal with a few white spots on his back. Magnificent. He approaches, hesitating, and a smile comes to color his lips when his mount lets him do it, docile.

— You can name it whatever you want, Prince Leclerc.

The pronunciation reminded him of something. A little nothing at all but a memory all the same that softened his thoughts.

He remembered an afternoon at the French castle, lying on the grass next to Pierre, so close to each other that he could feel the warmth radiating from his friend. The air is pleasant on their skins.

They discuss somewhat trivial matters but he remembers complaining about how his name could have been distorted by the different accents. They had exchanged a knowing look, the feeling shared.

Then Pierre had gleefully laughed at him by nicknamed him "Charles Éclair" all the rest of the afternoon and he could not even stay angry very long in front of the adorable face of his companion.

— Lightning. I mean, it will be called Éclair.

They rode their mounts and the ride was even faster than expected, with only two servants following them.

— And the governance of Italy ?

— I have prepared a plan and have a trusted friend who can implement it.

— Okay.

For him, it's impressive to organize himself so easily. This is the kind of governor he wants to be. Prepared for all eventualities.

His father agrees to receive them in audience. An audience, good god, it's his father! he ignores the look Daniel offers him, afraid to read pity. But that's not it at all and he realizes it when his companion in good fortune gently pats him on the back. It is comforting. Pure kindness.

The conversation lasts for hours and leads nowhere. Then the Italian king comes to subjects that are more delicate, including war, and his progenitor finally freezes, slowly starting to lose composing.

— I see that all this is not going anywhere. I would come back in a week. Hope you will have thought about it by then.

And his ally left the room quickly. He followed him almost running, dumbfounded at the scene that had played out. About the fact that someone stood up to their father. He doesn't even dare to imagine doing it, the consequences terrify him.

He is young, but he already knows what the word punishment means. 

He has a whip mark that stuck to his back no matter how much care was taken.

— Do you really think about it ? Dan ... iel ?

— Nicknames are fine with me, don't worry. And yes. I'll stay here to take care of you if I have to.

— I'm wasting your time, right, Dan ?

He is young but he is not irresponsible. He knows that leaders have many, many responsibilities, often few time, especially in such hospices.

— Look, Charles, you're in a tough spot, and I know you don't want it. Stop being stubborn and accept some help.

— O … kay. Ok.

He does the good host and leads his guest to his room which has been prepared and the guest puts his things there before turning to him, a confident smile on his face.

— Anyway, in a month, Romain is coming to Monaco. If your dad still hasn't budged by then, he'll definitely help me change his mind.

One month ... it coincided with the coming of Pierre. One more reason for him to be happy. To escape from his daily routine. Because the Frenchman has always helped him get out of his routine.

And believe it or not, Charles's father does not change his mind during this set period of time and, soon, the coming of the King of France is announced. He welcomes him with great relief, Daniel's confidence does not weaken.

Daniel who took care of him sincerely. Who took care of the smallest detail, who even took the liberty of offering him private Italian lessons.

— You better go out for a bit, kids.

Romain tells them with a soft tone and they do as he asked, they'll-

they'll—

A pause in writing. The vividness of the memories hits him full force, but Charles freezes for a moment when he sees Pierre moving in his sheets, turn around. Just waiting for him, his heart pounding, to verify that he is still asleep. Like a guilty pleasure.

He feels he will have a hard time justifying himself if his lover wakes up and asks him questions, so he just doesn't want to interrupt his flow of thoughts. As long as it's there. He wants to do everything at once and only, not having to dive back into it.


	2. deep inside me, somewhere

You may remember that scene, Pierrot. Maybe because if it marked me, it could have done it with you too. Especially because you took a hit for me. Oh, do you remember ...

They went to his room. His large bedroom with burgundy walls. For once they did not go outside, the sky was gray, a sign of an upcoming downpour. So they were content with his room.

— Your bed is big !

— Isn't yours so ?

— Yes ... no ... I don't know.

Pierre rolled onto his side until he was facing him and could gaze at him with his large, clear blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to have seen so much and yet stared at him with such innocence.

So they kept talking, they held hands, staring at the ceiling, talking about their dreams, their futures, the future. Anything and everything.

— I know that-

He's interrupted by someone knocking on the door. Dryly. Almost violently. He straightens up immediately.

— Charles. Open that door.

He gives Pierre a bewildered look at his side. It’s his father behind the doors and that does not bode well.

— Hide. You better not watch this.

He whispers to him before going up to open the door. His father stares at him coldly, his jaw is more than strained. He doesn't know what they talked about downstairs. He doesn't know what they talked about and still fears it.

— They say I'm a bad father, they say I'm obsessed with this war, they say I've lost my mind, can you believe it ? Can you believe it ?

He almost recoils in spite of himself. A thrill. His mind telling him to turn around and run away.

— You brought these men back to my house, bad luck dog ! I had the patience to raise you as my son and that's how you thank me ?!

His father raises his hand. He closes his eyes and waits for a slap, a punch, he doesn't know what to expect, doesn't want to see it coming.

But the snap echoes without him feeling any pain. He opens his eyes and understands why.

Pierre came forward in his turn and stood in front of him. A red impact now marks his cheek but he has not lost his splendor, nor his will, and stands upright, his piercing blue eyes, icy, almost murderous, towards the Monegasque king.

It's very strange. He hears his heart beating and capsizing at such a sight. Daniel defended him. Now the Frenchman defended him but it was so strange because at that moment he was not at all his age; he seemed to have lived a thousand lives, a simple slap could not frighten him.

— I think you're wrong. I think Charles has talent and he'll probably be a much better king than you are.

But before the older one can reply, there is noise in the hallway. Romain and Daniel arrive with haste, perhaps a little too late, and the French leader takes his place alongside the injured.

— Damn it, Pierre ! You must not allow yourself to be bullied like this, even for others. It's okay ? Are you in too much pain ?

Romain puts his hand on his cheek gently but the youngest one frees himself from the hold, frowning.

— It's not the others. It's Charlie.

Once again, he felt totally overwhelmed by these feelings. Can't believe this was happening to him. That someone had sided with him, of his own free will. Someone he had met, someone he had come to like.

The French king sighs, briefly hugs his compatriot, before turning angrily to his Monegasque alias who has remained silent and has paled considerably.

— Do you know ... how many sanctions I could inflict on you ?

— He ... he is not a member of the royal family.

— Is that really what matters ? Because I can make him become. He is already a part of it.

The mockery is strong. He is afraid that as soon as these unexpected allies disappear, the sentence will be worse than ever. His madeleine heart cannot stand it and a few tears are lost on his cheeks.

Pierre offers him a smile and his hand, seeming to want to comfort him when he was the one who had been hurt. It didn't make sense but he grabbed his hand.

Life can only get better apparently. That's what he was told, that's what Daniel assured him and, in a way, he was right. He always seems to be right, it's crazy.

It won't go back to how it was before, it will never go back to how it was before apparently. He suspected it as soon as everything started to fall apart. He suspected it clearly.

He takes care of Éclair. He takes very good care of it and the Italian king remains by his side for a long time, like a shield against this painful situation. In fact, he learns to strengthen himself, to become insensitive to the coldness offered by his father. To become stronger, to build his facade.

He's sixteen, not the young boy he used to be. Gained self-confidence, or a fake confidence, something like it. Has experimented. Girls, boys ... got tough. Made the final battlefields alongside Pierre, alongside Max, stoking an inexplicable rivalry between them, before the alliance was finally made.

It is time for a much more peaceful era. Daniel returned home. He misses his presence, but that's normal. His father will no longer hurt him, he can defend himself. Although that doesn't mean he doesn't always suffer from it, somewhere deep inside. He hates himself for being too weak.

The distance widened a bit with Pierre. For various political reasons. And his inclination, his gratitude makes him follow the Italian king. As well as the role that the Frenchman has created, this harshness, this strategy that he endorses by helping Romain.

Maybe they were looking for excuses. Maybe they grew up. But he misses it, he misses this relationship, he misses their memories. His days are complicated but livable. His sun, his friend, is no longer there.

— Since you seem so proud, so sure of yourself. Find the solution to this problem, I expect the answer tomorrow.

Another test. Charles invited himself into the meeting room this morning, to hear the complaints, part of the people in the East seemed to be revolting. He didn't expect to have to deal with the situation.

Tomorrow. His vision blurs. His first really important political task to do in twenty four hours. What a nightmare. He bites his lip, leaves the room under the mockery of his father. Back in his room, he searches his papers, looking for something, anything useful.

He has the idea to ask Daniel for help but it is a very bad solution. He has to learn to handle situations alone damn it.

— Charles !

He looks up to find Arthur throwing himself into his arms. A smile spreads across his face without him even realizing it, before he pulled back.

— Where is your brother ? and the queen ?

The younger immediately pulls back, pouting.

— First it’s not my brother but our brother and then it’s not the queen but mom or mother if you really want to be formal.

— Sorry, old habit.

— And to answer you, I already had a hard time coming so it would have been hard to bring anyone with me.

A spark of mischief shines in his brother's eyes and he ruffles his hair with a chuckle, glad to see him. Before he remembers what to do.

— I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm not going to be able to spend time with you. I have things to do.

— Oh. Oh ... and what ?

— It's a bit complicated, I don't have a solution for the moment. I don't know what to do with the riot in the east. We don't know what the people want ...

— And why don't you go see them ?

He stops in his search for documents immediately, as if frozen. Because it's an idea, a very good idea even.

— I am sure that the people would even be happy to see their future leader come to meet them, gain good points. Two … birds …. one stone ? That's it ?

Charles slams both hands on the table.

— Yes ! Perfect, thank you very much, Arthur !

He kisses his brother's cheek before grabbing a coat and less conspicuous clothing before slipping out of the palate very, very, very quickly. He can't move without a few servants and bodyguards, but that's okay.

There is chaos there. Torches are lit, peasants brandish their pitchforks angrily and some try to speak, to express themselves, but no one is heard. A chaos. The royal banner lies on the ground.

Don't let fear get in your way, Charlie, Pierre once told him. Be yourself, do what you want to do. No one will do it for you.

He grabs a crate that hangs out in a corner and sets it on the ground before climbing on it and shouting to get the attention of the crowd, much to the chagrin of those with him, who seem insecure.

— Listen to me, dear Monegasques ! I came to meet you today to hear your displeasure. I am here to improve your situation, I am here to hear from you! Do not be afraid to make your voices resonate, I will listen to you all if necessary and we will find a solution together.

He is sincere. Ready to listen to everyone in front of him if necessary. However, it does not take him so many interviews to understand the situation. Famine, poverty but above all the taxes which have increased. He salutes his people by assuring them to do their best.

Upon his return to the palace, he immersed himself in the royal accounts. To try to remake the economic budget. He learned to do it from Daniel, giving him significant experience.

He skips dinner. Reviews the very basics, builds on the plan. How long a budget plan of one year is. But in the end, he finished it. It is late or early, he no longer knows. He feels exhausted but he finished it.

The meeting is soon. Well, he lost his notion. He gets up to go to the room, his report in his hands. He needs a little more strength before he can go to sleep.

— What is that ?

— The solution to our problems. Our people are suffering, our people are hungry. Misery. We must lower taxes. I have already rolled out an economic plan that will allow us to reduce them without putting ourselves in danger.

The advisers and his father are compelled to take a look. Find themselves forced to approve because his calculations are more than correct. He borders on perfection, he forces himself to achieve it.

Charles considers the battle won when his project is accepted. His first real battle in all these years. His first step to the throne and he could continue the excursions, continue to see his people. Make them love him. As easy as that.

His people are one of the only things he clings to the crown for. They need him, he won't abandon them.

Little by little, step by step, he directed other operations. It is around this time that Daniel visits him again but he has passed the stage of being a mere admirer, a child waiting to be saved. He wants to experiment his chances and fill his gaps.

He kisses his savior for the first time in the beautiful gardens of his palace, and this one simply pulls back, a calm expression on his face.

— Charles .... no.

— Why no ? You don't have anyone in your life as far as I know.

But the Italian king is content to shake his head and refuse him. He sighs then, a little disappointed, but it's only a matter of time. He often gets what he wants.

It's somewhere in France, a meeting. He's seventeen or eighteen. He is supposed to attend this with his father. The evening is long when he learns that his mother has fallen ill. His fingers tighten around his glass of champagne. He apologizes with a polite, fake smile, and takes a moment to come out.

The bounds with Pierre are always distorted, he does not dare to dare with him too much. He is afraid of what it can be. Each birthday, he spends it at his side, as close as possible. Love ... he never thought to live it.

He doesn't know how to feel about this news. He was close to his mother when he was young, but suffered from her departure. From the void she and his brothers had left in his life. He loves her. And at the same time wonders if his definition of love is correct.

The wind makes him shiver. Playing cat and mouse with Daniel, as a direct opponent to Max. It's a little exhausting, it does not soothe his loneliness. When he was little, he thought that this feeling would fade, that he would grow up to be a responsible, fulfilled adult.

They were illusions, lies. It was anything but the truth. Will he even find the strength to pull through.

His thoughts are interrupted by the door slamming a little violently to his right. Daniel leaves the room, seeming to need some air. He has a hunch.

— Your father ?

The older man looks at him to his right, not having noticed his presence at the start, before slowly nodding his head. He walks forward, wrapping his arms around his companion, his shawl wrapped around them.

They are a bit similar, with the feeling that no one will ever understand them.

Then the king steps back and they stay looking at each other for a few moments, eye to eye. He doesn't know who takes the first step but they kiss each other softly and it's not happy, it seems to be a comfort.

And that's how a very bad story begins. Which ends in adultery, since Daniel is unable to speak, since he is unable to speak. Since they are such handicapped people.

For a while, Charles believed that the other would no longer need him. Following his marriage.

But Daniel melted into his arms and it was ridiculous. Because he knows what happened, what the other will never dare to talk about. This makes him in a favorable position. They may know each other too well.

— I wonder what my father would think if he was still here ...

— What would he think of what ? Of your life ?

The older man stands up on his elbows, the sheet slipping from his chest, revealing his musculature more than pleasant to his eyes.

— He would kill me for sure. He would say that I am ungrateful, that he did not educate me like that. Something like that.

— Because you're cheating on Max ?

He knows he is tackling a sensitive subject. His lover's air immediately darkened and he did his best not to think of anyone else.

— Max is hiding things from me ... there are so many things we don't say to each other.

— Can you blame him ? I'm sure you haven't even told him about your father.

— Sometimes I wonder which side you're on.

— I'll be there, hanging on to this relationship, until you don't need me anymore.

Pierre's words echoed him in many ways, but he is not unrealistic, quite the opposite. He will surely make his own when they go their separate ways, he made his own when they went their separate ways, but it's probably best when it all comes to an end.

At least that means that they have chosen to be closer and more sincere to those around them. It means they chose to actually live, rather than hang on to each other. To an illusion, to a ghost from the past.

They did it today. Daniel was stronger than him, gave in first. So much the better, certainly, so much the better.

He looks at those words on the paper, those more than ten years summed up in sentences and sentences and sentences. His heart seems lighter to him, but he doesn't know if it's just an impression or if it's real. He picks up the leaves.

He is a big coward. Always. A great coward when it comes to love. When it concerns Pierre. So he eagerly slips his memories into his beloved's suitcases, hides them under several things and returns to bed.

He lies down under the covers and, as if he has sensed it, his lover immediately comes to put an arm around him. He's blushing. But can now close his eyes, the mind appeased from all these parasitic thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d say that it’s the end of the flashback for this part and that we’re going to come back into the present now and see how Charles handles his responsibilities ...  
> A lot is yet to come, thanks for reading 😊


	3. i'll be your king.

— Are you sure you have nothing to tell me, honey ?

The midday sun shines brightly and dazzles them. He pinches his lips. It's hard to think that his Frenchman will leave him, but the traitor has apparently been unmasked, he has his business to take care of.

— I will miss you, watch yourself, okay ? I'm worried about-

Pierre interrupts him by stealing a kiss. It's tender, he blushes slightly in surprise before regaining composure.

— I know, Charlie. I'll be back soon, I promise.

He nods, staying on the steps, like a wife watching her husband go to war. He dreams of marriage, he dreams of big plans. But it seems to him that more are on the horizon. It seems to him that it is more up to him to end a war that has lasted a decade.

_ I wanted to confide in you, to write you the most beautiful words _

_ But you seem much more gifted than me at this exercise _

_ I wrote you my long, very long epic, this torment  _

_ I was afraid that, in front of you, my phrasing sounds wrong _

_ Today, Monaco has been suffering for a long time, _

_ Today, Monaco has suffered for well over ten years _

_ Under the grip, the wrath, the yoke of a tyrannical king _

_ I finally drop the shield to draw my sword _

_ And I am going to put to use all these years of practice _

_ Today, a new day will illuminate my city. _

His brother is waiting for him in the corridor. They exchange a look. During these last two years, while his father has weakened, he has gradually rallied all the advisers. Anything that could be done, he did it.

He fought for his people, fought for the end of the story. He fought to cleanse the throne of this country. To get rid of the scrape, the stain that's stained it to the core.

— Close the door.

He carefully orders Arthur who does so without a word. Few people are present in the current king's chamber. Everyone is aware of his actions. Not one plans to stop it, not one has objected.

The sword at his waist weighs heavy. Its last use dates from the fight for the Netherlands. It's a constant reminder. The only gift his father ever gave him. A poison and a blessing. Marked with a hot iron.

He draws it with a flexible gesture. The blade is clean, thin, and the room is reflected on it. He simply walks up to the bed, pulling away from anything that could hinder his will, any superfluous feeling.

His father stirs slightly. But hardly. Fear is visible in his eyes at the sight of the sword. He raises it to bring it down with force.

— Goodbye, papa.

Blood stains the sheets. The walls. His sword. Squirts up to his face. His breathing is choppy. He turns to the two advisers and the servant in the room.

— The King is finally dead after a long and terrible illness. He died in his sleep.

The two advisers bow their heads.

— The King is dead, long live the King.

Then they go out to spread the news.

The sword slips from his hands and falls to the ground. Then it is he who lets himself fall in a frightened sob. It was hard, it was so hard but it was worth it right? it was worth it. He didn't even deserve his pity, he hurt him so much.

He was the worst father he could have wished for, he was harsh and unfair, proud, stingy, sent him to war when he was twelve, damn twelve !

— Charlie ...

Arthur leans over to put a hand on his shoulder but he immediately pulls back, seeing only the blood on his hands, on his clothes, on him.

— Do not approach, you will be stained too.

— But Charles you-

— It's my crime. It was my duty. It will remain my secret to me, I will bear all the responsibility alone.

His brother tries to say something but he cuts it off, glances briefly at the servants tending to the former king's body before striding back to his room. Tears are hot on his cheeks.

He gets rid of his clothes. Slips into the bath they have prepared for him and closes his eyes.

Yet he prepared for it. He's been preparing for it all his life. Thought of the satisfaction he would derive when he thrust his sword into his chest. Why is it never as he envisioned it ?

The tightness in his chest is painful. He is grieving. He feels like a child. Yet he is king now. So where has his dapper arrogance and his proud and confident facade gone ?

He needs Pierre by his side more than ever. He needs him so badly. He didn't want to chain him, he didn't want to hold him back. He knows very well that he still longs for the presence of Romain and Esteban at his side, having only seen them briefly after so many months. So he didn't want to be an obstacle or a burden. He just feels a little lonely.

But it must be fine. He lived for years alone, in this great palace. To fear a wrong word, a misstep. This is the end of his ordeal. These walls are his now.

His first action is to bring his mother and his brothers back home. To reinstall them correctly. Charles has more peace of mind when he has them by his side and his mother, recently recovered from her illness, is a moral and wise support. She hugs him as soon as she sees him and he remains with his arms dangling, breathing in her perfume, wondering if it is really possible to fill such a big gap of years.

He foresees the coronation on a fixed date, a little over two weeks, and during this time he continues the actions with his people. Does what he can to improve their lives, is already immersing himself in the pacts he had begun to see before.

The days go by and he acts. He acts, sometimes loses sleep. But he has to change the policy, he has to help his kingdom. His kingdom so marked by the wrong treatment ...

The moon shines in the sky. He tucks his blanket over him a little better and curls up in his chair. The documents before his eyes draw a fairly flat parallel to the night he wrote his memoirs. The night when Pierre was still by his side.

He feels like months have passed since then.

Longing for someone apparently lengthens time. He makes an effort to concentrate on the papers, takes his quill in a trembling hand, before putting it down. How long has he been unable to sleep properly ? He feels tired and exhausted. Suddenly. He did what was right. He must be convinced of that.

Another sob passes his throat. They told him it would be hard but he was born for it. It is his task, it is his duty. That's all he's good at.

Everything he's really good at because he doesn't know how to make friends, doesn't know how to love, doesn't know how to be a good person. He just knows how to lead and pretend to be fine and he knows how to want the best for the Monegasques.

A perfect leader that he wishes to become, that he will become. A happy or fulfilled man was not part of his plans, apparently.

Two arms wrap around him. A contact he dreamed of so much that he can't even tell if it's real.

— Pierre ...

— I'm back, my love. I'm sorry it took so long, I'm sorry about-

He cuts it off by putting his lips to his. His arms around his neck. The hands sliding down his waist. He is almost hungry for these contacts, these gestures, these intimate moments.

— Charlie ... you were too good. Not to want to encumber me. I could have been by your side.

His lover's voice is hoarse but he's pretty sure his is too.

— You deserve better than me. I couldn't be more of a weight, I couldn't be weak, you don't need someone that weak.

— What are you talking about ?

He has trouble seeing through his tears but his mate grabs him and pulls him inside with incredible gentleness. He is already so scantily dressed and he is joined. Soon they no longer have any clothes on them.

He is lying on his back.

Pierre kisses his lips with a passion which wants to be tender and deviates towards his cheek, his neck, descends lower to his chest.

— In my eyes, what you have experienced does not change your value, my beautiful one. We all lived badly, I lost my family young, I never spoke to you about it and you must have guessed it ...

The Frenchman's hands slide on his chest, run along his belly, until coming to his privacy, and his mouth finds his neck.

— You are the best ruler they could possibly want, my king.

A moan passes his lips at this nickname. He's heard so many people start calling him that, over the course of the week. Strangers, servants ... no one who meant so much to him.

— And you're a better man than you think, Charlie.

The pressure and tension that his whole body has been under suddenly seem to release. With such force that he is confused. Dazzled by the silhouette drawn by the rays of the moon, the silhouette of the one he loves.

When his eyes open again, the place next to him is empty. He straightens up immediately, his eyes widening, before feeling a slight pain in his lower back. He didn't dream ... did he ?

— Yes very well. Thank you.

Relief runs through him as soon as he sees Pierre at the door, still shirtless. His handsome lover smiles when he sees him awake and comes to settle down at his side. Charles hastens to snuggle up to him.

— You read the letters, then ?

His companion nods.

— You know ... what I did.

The Prince Regent hesitates for a moment before nodding again.

— Aren't you ... afraid of me ? Aren't you disgusted ? You ...

— You did what you had to do. You did it for your people; I have nothing to complain about. I already know it hurt you.

He recoils, surprised. He didn't know it could be read so well. He's in minefield here. And, in a way, isn't surprised because they've known each other for too long.

— I wish you could see my family's estate. It was really a rather special little province, surrounded by vegetation. It was near a cliff ... the view was magnificent you know ?

He lowers his head, biting his lip.

— Your family fire ?

— It's hard to talk about it. Guess I should feel at ease because the culprit has been arrested but I don't know. It's just a void. He himself was so, so convinced that what he was doing was good. It is unthinkable.

— I'm sorry ...

— Don't be. I don't want to think of such things on such a beautiful day.

At this point, Charles freezes. Because so much has happened, he's been overwhelmed, he's totally out of step with his schedule. What day is it today? What event is taking place? 

— Don't tell me you forgot ? Your crowning glory is today, my heart.

Shit.

What time is it ? God, he hopes he's not late. He gets up abruptly and gets out of bed so quickly that he trips and almost falls but Pierre catches him up.

— Calm down, calm down. We still have time ahead of us. Your last guests have arrived. The ceremony will be during the afternoon.

He sinks back onto his bed with a sigh.

— I asked for lunch to be brought to your room, and you have a bath ready to relax a bit. I also started to look at your commercial proposal with Belgium.

He moans before burying his face in his hands, his cheeks flushed. It’s not possible. What did he do to deserve such a person ?

— But ... But ... Pierre ? You're doing too much ...

His partner laughs softly, and god that sound is sweet to his ears after two weeks apart from him, before kissing his cheek and starting to dress properly.

— In your bath, Charlie. Hurry up.

— Yes sir.

There is a sparkle in the older man's eyes that makes him comply, something that tells him he's not done with him. He feels relaxed. Stress goes away as quickly as it first appeared and it feels so good.

He has Pierre by his side, nothing can go wrong.

The coronation in church, under the office of the Pope, left him speechless. He goes out, gives a long speech to his people. Everything takes place in a most intense ecstasy, he is so euphoric, the slightest mistake does not even scare him. 

Everything is happening almost too fast. He's in the place he's always dreamed of. He's determined not to be hurt anymore. Not so badly. Not to live through such an era, a dark era that was his childhood.

— Congratulations.

This is what Daniel slips into his ear as he hugs him, a hug between the two of them that no one seems to care about, for once.

— Don't blame yourself, your people have just won the sovereign they need, then murmurs the Italian king before stepping back.

They exchange a nod. He sees Pierre out of the corner of his eye chatting with Sebastian and it's a bit of an unusual exchange to be noticed. 

— My congratulations, King of Monaco.

It seems to tear Max's mouth out a bit, but it's still sincere and he's surprised that Max has come to see him.

— Likewise, I don't think I had the opportunity to congratulate you on your coronation, King of the Netherlands.

— A lot of deadly diseases seem to be spreading among royalty lately, it's crazy, isn't it ?

He flinches but immediately pulls himself together. It's teasing, he knows that. He deserves better than to fall into such traps. A friendly air marks his features.

— Indeed, we will have to pay attention to our heads, I think. You never know when you may be a victim of an assassination.

It's fair game. They exchange an amused smile. They separate and they join their respective companions.

— Thank you for accepting this request.

— It's not much, I'm sure it won't bother him. Oh, it was a nice coronation, Monegasque King.

— Thank you.

The conversation seems to have ended and he hasn't gotten much from it, but he must surely give him his share of secrets. Pierre smiles at him, puts an arm around her waist.

— Are you having a good time, Charlie ?

— Well, that's more than I could have imagined. Even though ...

Charles sighs softly, it's been bothering him since this event began.

— Even if there are some absent. Do you know why Lando isn’t here ?

— Unfortunately, I was gone too long and I haven't had time to see him again. Max probably knows more than I do, right ? 

He thinks that going to ask the Dutchman what is going on would be a bit out of place. However, his lover must surely be dying to talk to him ...

— Go see him ? I know the two of you have to talk, don't mind me.

— Are you sure, sweetheart ? 

The French prince frowns and he shakes his head gently.

— Just go.

— I come back soon.

Pierre kisses his cheek tenderly and a feeling of calm runs through him when he sees the scene. Pierre and Max trying to resume a normal conversation. He would be surprised if either of them didn't shed tears during this discussion.

His palace, his country, his people.

He did what he had to do, he did all he could. No one is going to blame him and now ... he has everything he dreamed of.

Maybe he doesn't deserve it. A part of him remains uncertain of what will happen next, afraid that anyone could see through his situation and claims that it’s all a charade but that does not seem to happen.

It doesn't seem to happen, so he feels a little better. Freed from the past. Pierre at his side. The boy he loves by his side and who will not leave him. Can it end well ? Can it end like this ? Does he have the right ... to be happy ?

Further on, he can see his mother and his brothers, present, looking radiant. His family.

He decides to finally get closer to the Spanish king, Carlos, when he sees him near a banquet table, surrounded by a crowd of people, always very attractive, as always.

He is just surprised when he hears the conversation between two nobles, barely removed from the main discussion.

— Yes I know, I was surprised too !

— Who would have guessed ?

His gaze drifts on Pierre and Max, whose faces have also darkened.

— Who would have thought that the Spanish king would decide to marry the princess of the Norris family ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello ! Here the happy-end so awaited of Charles, an ending where he's way more at peace with himself. You may have been surprised by how things went, but I had this idea stuck in my idea of Charles' coming into the king room to stab hil and I couldn't think about anything for this part ... Charles is now gone for long years of reign with, most probably, Pierre by his side to help him as possible ... and this ending was really pleasant to write.  
> I think I'll play a bit longer. Some reactions about it ? x)
> 
> Next part to be translated : United Kingdom !!


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